


love is worth

by gloss



Category: Shitsurakuen | Paradise Lost
Genre: F/F, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-22
Updated: 2010-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Baby girl you've got to know what your love is worth."</p>
            </blockquote>





	love is worth

Wrapped in her bathrobe, Koharu sits perched on the windowsill, waiting while the rice cooker hums and steams. There is very little light yet in the sky. The forests that surround the campus are still undifferentiated masses of ink and shadows; the scraps of horizon between the spiky tops of pines glow one or two shades brighter.

When the cooker beeps and shuts itself off, she washes her hands again, removes the bowls of fillings from her small refrigerator, and sets to making the day's onigiri for Sora-sama's group.

Sour pickled plum for Tomoko (strange that such a cute kid likes something so pungent); chopped rare beef for Yuki, because she needs all the protein she can get so she feels better. For Sora herself, the filling is always tuna with lots of extra mayonnaise. Koharu takes extra care, of course, with Sora's serving. It takes half again as much warm rice, and she presses it gently, carefully, to shape it into a triangle. If she were brave, she'd kiss the strip of nori after she wraps it around the base.

Her hands are red from the rice's heat. The steam makes her bangs stick to her forehead.

She doesn't have to do this. She does this because she wants to. They are a group now, more than friends, not quite family, and they must take care of each other.

One serving of rice remains in the bowl. Koharu pokes it, petulantly, a few times before wiping her forehead on her upper arm and exhaling.

"Let me," Yuki says behind her. Quiet as ever, she does not startle Koharu so much as nudge her alert, into full wakefulness. "This is for Reiko-senpai."

That was not a question, but Koharu nods anyway.

Yuki gently pushes her aside and molds the rice quickly. Her hands are pale in the dim room, pale as the trunks of birches across the quadrangle. Her braids are pinned up against her skull and tendrils curl at the nape of her neck and at her temple.

She shakes the last bit of convenience-store spicy furikake into the bowl of plum slices, then adds the mixture to the rice in her hand. She glances at Koharu and smiles, her mouth dark and soft as graphite marks. "This ought to put a frown on her face."

Koharu pictures Reiko's beautiful face, pinched up in disgust, her big, clear eyes squinting and prickling with tears. She giggles and hands a strip of nori to Yuki.

"We shouldn't," Koharu says perfunctorily. "That's mean."

But she says it well after the onigiri is wrapped in wax paper and tucked away. Yuki washes her hands, then cups Koharu's cheek. "It's not poisonous, silly."

Yuki's thumbs rest in the hollow between Koharu's chin and her lower lip. She looks down, to her chest, then to Yuki's, where Sora's mark appears on them both. Her chest is embarrassingly big, while Yuki's cleavage is neat, round, very pretty.

She looks back up to meet Yuki's eyes, bright and wet.

"She never lets Reiko-san go," Koharu blurts out. It's true; Sora always has her arm wound through Reiko's, or her hands playing with Reiko's hair, or her lips on Reiko's plump cheeks. She is enamored; they are inseparable. Flushing with shame, she tries to twist away, but Yuki will not let her go. Instead she tightens her grip and makes Koharu look her in the eye.

"She loves us all," Yuki says. Her voice is quiet and grave, but her cheeks might be as pink as Koharu's own. "You have to believe that."

"I do," Koharu says and hugs Yuki, tucking her head against Yuki's neck. "I do."

Yuki strokes Koharu's hair. The sun starts today's struggle to rise.

**Author's Note:**

> Title & summary from Del tha Funkee Homosapien.


End file.
